The Daughter of the Commandant eBook

The Tartar began to hum a plaintive song; Saveliitch,
fast asleep, oscillated from one side to the other.
Our “kibitka” was passing quickly
over the wintry road. All at once I saw a little
village I knew well, with a palisade and a belfry,
on the rugged bank of the Yaik. A quarter of
an hour afterwards we were entering Fort Belogorsk.

CHAPTER XII.

THE ORPHAN.

The “kibitka" stopped before the door
of the Commandant’s house. The inhabitants
had recognized the little bell of Pugatchef’s
team, and had assembled in a crowd. Chvabrine
came to meet the usurper; he was dressed as a Cossack,
and had allowed his beard to grow.

The traitor helped Pugatchef to get out of the carriage,
expressing by obsequious words his zeal and joy.

Seeing me he became uneasy, but soon recovered himself.

“You are one of us,” said he; “it
should have been long ago.”

I turned away my head without answering him.
My heart failed me when we entered the little room
I knew so well, where could still be seen on the wall
the commission of the late deceased Commandant, as
a sad memorial.

Pugatchef sat down on the same sofa where ofttimes
Ivan Kouzmitch had dozed to the sound of his wife’s
scolding.

Chvabrine himself brought brandy to his chief.
Pugatchef drank a glass of it, and said to him, pointing
to me—­

“Offer one to his lordship.”

Chvabrine approached me with his tray. I turned
away my head for the second time. He seemed beside
himself. With his usual sharpness he had doubtless
guessed that Pugatchef was not pleased with me.
He regarded him with alarm and me with mistrust.
Pugatchef asked him some questions on the condition
of the fort, on what was said concerning the Tzarina’s
troops, and other similar subjects. Then suddenly
and in an unexpected manner—­

“Tell me, brother,” asked he, “who
is this young girl you are keeping under watch and
ward? Show me her.”

Chvabrine became pale as death.

“Tzar,” he said, in a trembling voice,
“Tzar, she is not under restraint; she is in
bed in her room.”

“Take me to her,” said the usurper, rising.

It was impossible to hesitate. Chvabrine led
Pugatchef to Marya Ivanofna’s room. I followed
them. Chvabrine stopped on the stairs.

“Tzar,” said he, “you can constrain
me to do as you list, but do not permit a stranger
to enter my wife’s room.”

“You are married!” cried I, ready to tear
him in pieces.

“Hush!” interrupted Pugatchef, “it
is my concern. And you,” continued he,
turning towards Chvabrine, “do not swagger; whether
she be your wife or no, I take whomsoever I please
to see her. Your lordship, follow me.”

At the door of the room Chvabrine again stopped, and
said, in a broken voice—­

“Tzar, I warn you she is feverish, and for three
days she has been delirious.”